


let's savor what we're falling for

by avioletqueen



Category: Free!
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avioletqueen/pseuds/avioletqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In another lifetime, he would’ve attracted the attention of people around the world. In this life, the life Makoto prefers, he only draws the attention of one in particular."</p><p>Or, the one where Makoto thinks way too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's savor what we're falling for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helsoegym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsoegym/gifts).



> Heavily based on "[My Apartment](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZaqviDdFYU)" by Young the Giant. This was almost a songfic. Almost.

The sand is itchy.

Makoto doesn’t particularly mind – he never has. It’s just something he takes note of, just like he notices the clear color of the waves as they wash up onto the shore, the clean line of Haru’s body cutting through the water. It’s a tradition they have in the summertime - when the water in the little inlet near their hometown is warm enough for Makoto’s approval, Haru swims at sunset while Makoto watches over him, relaxing and letting his thoughts wander wherever they want to go. 

Today, as is the case many days, they wander towards the boy in the sea. For all that Rei’s a little strange about aesthetics, he’s right, Makoto thinks idly as he burrows his toes in the sand. Haru’s swimming _is_ beautiful, in the way that each pull of his arm seems like a performance in and of itself. In another lifetime, he would’ve attracted the attention of people around the world. In this life, the life Makoto prefers, he only draws the attention of one in particular. 

A drop of water distracts him from his thoughts, and he blinks back into reality, finally noticing that Haru’s no longer swimming. In fact, he’s standing above him, his expression calm and peaceful. For a moment, Makoto’s surprised – after all, Haru rarely leaves the water without a few minutes of cajoling on his part. In the moment it takes for Makoto to recover from the absurdity of the situation, Haru collapses next to him in a heap of tangled limbs, draping his damp arm over Makoto’s shoulders. The taller boy can’t help a soft laugh – after lazy days like this, Haru looks like a fish out of water more than anything else. 

“Done?” he asks kindly, like he always does, and Haru responds by leaning in to kiss him. 

It’s not the first time. There have been dares, and stupid children’s games, and girls that briefly flitted through his life before he found he didn’t like them like that. But it’s the first time with Haru, and doesn’t that make his heart skip a beat. He wants to lean in, but he’s frozen, his senses hyperactive. He can feel each grain of sand pressed against his legs, the gentle pressure of Haru on him, the heat that’s rising in the tips of his ears, and no matter how much he wants to, he can’t just let his eyes fall closed. 

It’s been minutes, it’s been hours, and Haru pulls away. Makoto blinks and something changes. Haru’s unfamiliar all at once, and he realizes he’s seeing him as everyone else does – a blank, inscrutable expression that doesn’t give away anything within. It’s terrifying, not knowing what Haru’s thinking, not even being able to guess. Makoto hates it. 

Haru gets to his feet, brushing the sand off his swimsuit. Wordlessly, he moves away, up the beach, back in the direction of his apartment, and something cold settles in Makoto’s heart. He wants to get up, go run after him, but the weight of the sand on his feet and his brain on his heart stop him. 

For the first time in years, he doesn’t say goodnight.

\--- 

The next morning is Sunday, cloudy and gray, the day oozing endlessly in front of Makoto. The confusion of the previous night, the guilt of leaving Ran and Ren behind at home, and the drizzling rain all contribute to his terrible mood as he paces up and down the sidewalk, eyes on the ground in front of him.

Who is Haru, to kiss him without warning? He thinks in frustration, picking up a stone and tossing it out into the sea. Who is Haru, to know what Makoto wants before he does himself?

Once upon a time, Makoto would’ve answered the questions easily – Haru is his best friend. Now, he isn’t so sure. 

They have to talk. The realization hits Makoto all at once, and he can’t suppress a groan, head sinking into his hands. It’s going to be awkward, and Haru’s going to be as unresponsive as Makoto’s going to be nervous, but Rei doesn’t have a monopoly on logic, and Makoto is smart enough to know that he has to try. 

There’s something imposing about the steps leading up to Haru’s house. Makoto goes up halfway, then comes back down again a few times, eventually sitting on the bottom step with his hood tugged over his head, trying out various conversation starters with the cat curled up in his lap. 

“Makoto?” The voice makes him jump, and the cat springs off his lap, meowing petulantly before stalking away. Makoto gets to his feet, looking up the stairs at Haru, but the other boy is still closed off to him, unreadable and distant. 

He sighs heavily before asking, “can I come in?” 

Despite everything else, there’s no hesitation in Haru as he leads Makoto into the house. If there’s nothing else for Makoto to take comfort in, at least there’s that. 

They stand quietly in the main room of the house after Haru closes the door, pointedly trying not to stare at each other. It’s never been this weird between them before. Makoto wishes he knew what to do, wishes that he could get out of his head enough to not worry over every single word he might say.

“Sorry,” Haru says first, surprising Makoto into speechlessness for the third time in twenty-four hours. But it works. It’s immediately a little easier to breathe; the situation has taken one giant leap back to normal.

“No, it’s… it’s okay,” Makoto responds carefully, honestly. It’s not like either of them really know what they’re doing, so as long as they’re working through it together, he might as well be as truthful as possible. He doesn’t know exactly what this is, but he wants it. Maybe. If he can be selfish enough to take it and not lose Haru’s friendship in the process. “I just think we should… talk about what we’re doing?” 

The hesitant words hang in the air between them, tension palpable – and then Haru quirks his eyebrow, letting Makoto back in. He almost laughs in relief as the shorter boy says easily, “we’re doing what we want. Being free.”

Of course. His Haru is still in there after all. His Haru has always been there, just now he’s trying to be ‘his’ in a new way, and Makoto wants to let him try, wants to see where this will go. 

He smiles, shaking his head. “Fair. Just- tell me the next time you want to kiss me.” 

Haru mulls the words over, then gives him a short nod. “Alright. I’m going to kiss you.”

“I- what?” Makoto asks, but his words are cut off as Haru pulls him closer by the shirt, presses their lips together for the second time. It’s been days, it’s been years, and Haru still tastes like the sweet salt of the sea, like being home. Makoto tries to protest that he’s soaked right now, that surely he should at least dry off a little, but then Haru sinks a hand into his wet hair and makes such an appreciative noise that Makoto wonders what took them so long to get here.

\--- 

Their friends have the expected responses (“You weren’t already dating? Huh!”; “I’m not surprised - it was statistically likely.”; “That combination of muscles…!”). But nothing changes like Makoto was expecting it to – like some parts of him were fearing it would. They’re still a team, after all.

And Haru is still Haru – as undemonstrative a lover in public as he is a friend. Makoto doesn’t mind. Even more than that, he understands. And he treasures what he does get: Haru’s rare smiles at the end of a long day, and Haru’s fingers wrapped around his before meets (though that does draw odd looks from Rin and Sousuke – at least Makoto wasn’t the slowest to catch on, he thinks happily to himself). Most of all, Haru’s eager soft kisses against his lips in the mornings when Makoto tries to get him out of the bath. 

“We’re going to be late,” he warns, but then he leans straight back in to Haru’s touch, which isn’t particularly helpful. He just can’t help taking advantage of these little moments of being together. He doesn’t know where they’ll be in the future. He doesn’t know what the upcoming years of possible separation will bring them. 

But this works for now, he thinks. Then Haru makes a breathless little sound into his mouth, and Makoto stops thinking at all.


End file.
